


The One where Bucky has a metal cock

by sasha_feather



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bisexual Character, Bucky has a metal cock, Bucky's metal dick, Cyborgs, F/M, Natasha POV, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-10-21 10:16:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20691860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sasha_feather/pseuds/sasha_feather
Summary: Bucky has a metal cock and Natasha likes it.





	The One where Bucky has a metal cock

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to encourage fandom at large to create more fanworks in which Bucky has a metal cock.
> 
> Thanks to LongWhiteCoats for beta!

Natasha watches the Soldier carefully. At first it's about threat assessment. When the Winter Soldier turns himself in, he's given a room in Stark Tower, and frankly she doesn't trust the failsafes that JARVIS has put into place. He's more dangerous than any of the team really have a handle on.

The Soldier--Barnes, she amends--has been completely covered up except for his face and hands whenever she or anyone else sees him. Fair enough, if he feels that his clothes offer him some emotional protection, but she wonders if he's hiding something else. He wears long-sleeved henleys and Avengers shirts, heavy trousers, boots. Sometimes a hoodie with the hood pulled up over his head. Sometimes, sunglasses, even at night. 

Natasha and Barnes spar together, easy, like dancing. Afterwards, he doesn't change in the locker room, but instead retreats to his own apartment high in Stark Tower. 

As time passes, her threat assessment alters. She sees the way he trusts Rogers, and how he gripes around Wilson but ultimately defers to him. She starts to think of him as James, as part of her team. But she still wants more information.

He's been there a month when she makes the decision. Natasha rings his doorbell and when James answers, she leans into his personal space. "Do you want to invite me in for a drink?" she says. 

He smiles, slow, charming, and steps back from the threshold. Today his hair is down, sheltering his face. His eyes crinkle at the corners, a real smile. "Natasha," he says. "Come in." 

James grabs two beers from the fridge and opens them with his metal hand. Natasha sits on the couch and he joins her. 

The apartment is a similar layout to her own, and similarly undecorated. The only picture on the wall is a framed portrait of himself and Steve in their WWII uniforms. She gestures at it with her beer. "Are you and him together?"

He takes a long drink of his beer before answering. "It's what they call an open relationship. Or, 'It's complicated.'" He makes little air-quotes with his fingers.

"All right then," Natasha says, and leans towards him. She puts her hand in his hair and strokes it back, luxuriating in the feel. 

"Do you always make passes at people who shot you?" James says, taking another swig of his beer before setting it down on the coffee table. 

"What's a little gunshot wound between friends," she says. "Do you want to see the scar?" 

"I do," he says, leaning forward to kiss her, just a small, exploratory kiss. A friendly kiss. 

She lifts her shirt up, then takes his metal hand and guides it to her abdomen, to the scar from his bullet. "Not your best work. Not that I'm complaining." 

He runs his square-tipped metal fingers over the scar. The metal of his fingers is the same temperature as the rest of him. Natasha kisses him again, hungrily, and he leans into it. His metal fingers stroke up and down on her belly, and his right hand finds her hip. He pulls her up into his lap. 

"Mmm, this is nice," he says when they pause for a breath. "But I suspect you have an ulterior motive."

She pauses, runs her fingers through his hair and considers. "All right, no bullshit then. I think you're hiding something. Something that could be tactically important." 

James pauses too; licks his reddened lips. "That's all?"

"I also want to have some fun. It's a dual-purpose mission."

James' face does something complex, as if he wants to smile and frown at the same time. He takes a deep breath in before saying, "All right. I'm on board with all that. But--just--don't freak out. I might not be quite what you expect."

Natasha raises her eyebrows. As if she was even capable of freaking out. But there's a mission to complete here, so she says, "Assassin's honor. No freaking out."

James takes off his shirt, pulling it up over his head and messing up his hair. His chest is lightly haired, and there's only a little scarring around the shoulder where the metal arm meets his skin, old scars, faded and worn in. He's beautiful, and she wants to touch him, so she does. She kisses his neck and collar bones. She teases his nipples with her fingers and hears his breath hitch. She crosses her arms and peels off her own shirt. James' hands go to her shoulders, slipping the straps of her bra off, and then he expertly unclasps the back with his metal hand. Natasha shrugs her bra off and leans forward, pressing her breasts to James' chest. She's always loved this, just the sensation of a warm body against her own, the pure animal comfort of skin contact.

James is breathing hard now. He's a little wild-eyed, though, not so much that anyone else would notice, but Natasha can see a bit of apprehension there, a slight tension. She smoothes her hand over his hair, petting him, and she sees him relax just that little bit. 

"You OK there, Barnes?" 

"Yeah, yeah. Better than OK," he says. 

Natasha slides off James' lap and settles onto her knees in front of him. She thumbs his jeans open slowly, and her right hand hits smooth metal. She wraps her hand around his apparently _metal_ cock. 

Natasha looks up at James' face. His mouth is open a little, breaths coming heavy. 

"Ah," Natasha says. "There you are. This is why I was supposed to not freak out?"

He nods. His eyes are wide, curious. 

"It's hot," she says. 

His cock is mobile, flexible, and it feels like it's hardening in her hand. But it's unmistakably metal, and that's… something. She leans forward and takes a look. Instead of shifting plates, like the arm, the metal of his cock is made up of thousands of tiny hexagons. The overall effect is like extremely fine snakeskin. His cock is realistic in shape, with a thick head, like a circumcised penis. The metal glints in the dim light. James' cock is warm like flushed skin, and it feels nice in her hand. 

"What's the sensation like?" she asks.

"Gah--good. More sensitive than the arm, and the arm gives me a lot," James says. 

Natasha licks the head of his cock experimentally, and James gasps. "Fuck, fuck. Do that again."

She does, kissing and licking the shaft, tasting. His cock doesn't really taste like anything so much as clean metal. She sucks the head of his cock into her mouth and it's smooth, easy. It's not soft like skin, but the metal flexes and moves in interesting ways. She images what it'll feel like when she fucks him--hard, fine, precious metal up inside her. Unrelenting. She feels desire bloom low in her belly. She sucks harder for a moment, then backs off. 

"Can you come in the usual manner?"

"Yeah, it's… the plumbing is all still there. Underneath." 

"Pants off," she says, standing up. "Bedroom." She leads them into the next room and sheds her own shoes and pants, leaving them in a pile on the floor. This bedroom, like her own, has a king-sized bed and soft yellow lighting that turns on when she enters. The bed is made up perfectly. 

James is standing there, naked and beautiful. She stands close to him and looks him up and down. His balls are metal too, the same fine work of engineering. Reddish scars lace over his abdomen and upper thighs. His left knee has two straight scars, one on each side, a few inches long. The rest of James' body is unmarked. His thighs are thick and muscled. He stands balanced, ass out, shoulders back. 

Natasha pushes him down onto the bed, kissing him and kissing him until her own lips feel swollen. His right hand is on her breast, stroking over the nipple, and then his mouth is there, sucking hard. Little moans escape his throat, and his hips jerk. His left hand settles over her cunt, caressing it. His metal thumb slips into her labia and strokes her clit. Sensation rushes down her legs, warm and tingling. He rubs at her clit fast and she gasps.

James reaches over to the little table by the side of the bed and opens the drawer; it's stocked with condoms, lube, a bottle of mystery pills, a stack of cloth handkerchiefs. 

"Here, let me," Natasha says. She carefully rips the little package open and removes the condom. She kneels over James' body and rolls the condom on slowly. She puts a little lube on her hand and then strokes her hand up and down his cock. The hard metal reminds her of a piston, and the idea of it sends a flame down her spine. It'll be like fucking a machine, she thinks. Like fucking a motorcycle, but also the bike's rider, all at once. Maybe next time she'll have him wear a leather jacket.

She kneels up over him and sinks down onto his cock. As it fills her up she breathes out in satisfaction, the feeling of hunger being met and heeded to. They fuck that way for a while, building up a sweat, finding their rhythm. His cock inside her doesn't feel so different from a dildo: harder than a silicone cock, but more flexible than a glass one. James' hands settle on her hips, flexing and grabbing. The metal hand and the flesh hand move perfectly in sync. The plates on his arm and shoulder shift and settle with a whir. 

"Can we flip," he says, slowing down. 

She nods, grabs his shoulder and rolls quickly to the side. He slips out of her for a moment, settles over her. He braces himself on his flesh hand and fucks into her fast and hard. She lifts her legs and puts them up over his thighs, pulling him closer. She grabs his hair, gives it a little pull. He gasps and she does it again, harder. His hips jerk and stutter and he comes with a low moan, a feral animal sound, like the orgasm is being pulled from him. 

She holds him there for a moment, petting his hair. After a moment he sits up, removes the condom and ties it off. He chucks it into the trash can and then lies back down beside her. 

"Do you want my mouth on you?" he asks. He runs his metal hand up and down over her side, across her belly. 

"Yes. But. I want your fingers. The metal ones." 

He smirks at her. There's a goddamn twinkle in his eyes. She smacks him on his flesh arm. "Get to it, Barnes."

"Yes ma'am," he says, and puts two of his blunt fingers into her. They slide smoothly in, slick and easy in her wetness. After a moment he adds a third, and it settles some ache inside her, while also ramping her up. 

James curls down, flexible, graceful like a cat. She feels his tongue against her clit. His fingers curl inside her. Her body clenches around those fingers, again and again, as the orgasm crashes down and through her. 

James stills, holding his fingers in place. Natasha breathes in once, twice. "A little more," she says. James tongues at her, hard, and another wave of pleasure washes through her. 

He slips his hand out gently and kisses her thigh. 

Natasha grabs his metal wrist and raises it to her face. She sucks his fingers in, tasting herself, licking them clean. His eyes close for a moment. He leans into kiss her.

"Let's do this again," Natasha says. She has ideas.

"Yes," he says. He gets up and stretches his arms out. "You can stay there. I can't sleep in this bed." 

"I have to go feed my cat," she says. 

He narrows his eyes. "You have a cat?"

"She's reclusive. Not fond of strangers. You'll meet her someday." Natasha stands and dresses. 

He stands close to her, still naked, and kisses her again. "You taste good," he says. "Come back tomorrow."

She palms his cock one last time, where it lies against his thighs, not soft, but at ease. "All right. See you tomorrow." 

\-----  
The end.


End file.
